


keep warm

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: Sportsfest 2018 [44]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Roommates, Sportsfest 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 13:27:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15730323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: There is comfort in knowing exactly what he will see when he turns around. A vase of daffodils, two mugs, two forks and spoons with their shine worn in. Two plates, a pair in matching off-white that they bought from the little shop down the road.





	keep warm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sportsfest 2018 Bonus Round 4: Caps | [originally posted here](https://sportsfest.dreamwidth.org/11674.html?thread=2243738#cmt2243738)

From below the window, there’s the sound of wheels on a pavement and gravel, a bicycle coming to a halt and someone murmuring a polite _good evening_ to the neighbours, and Shinsuke lowers the heat on the stove.

“ _Okaeri_. Perfect timing,” he says, when the door opens.

Ushijima takes his shoes off and lines them up on the rack, hangs his jacket on the hook and glances at Shinsuke with raised eyebrows. “I thought I was late.”

“I thought you might be late,” says Shinsuke. He goes over to the window to close it. As he latches the handle with a soft click, the hazy evening settles into their living room like a quiet sigh curling round the kitchen countertop. Next door, someone is practising the piano; across the hallway, someone is watching the weather report.

“It looks like it’s going to rain,” Shinsuke elaborates, nodding at the grey skies outside, when he sees Ushijima’s still staring at him. “And you always take the longer route home for shelter when it does.”

Ushijima inclines his head. He sets down his satchel, takes off his jacket and sniffs the air. “It’s as you say, of course. Are you making curry? It smells good.”

The light on the rice cooker flips from _cook_ to _keep warm_ just then. Shinsuke steps back to his simmering pot, scoops up a ladleful of sauce and takes a sip. “It’s ready. Will you set the table, please?”

He wipes his hands on his apron, reaches round to undo the knot, and doesn’t miss a beat as he’s doing it; he doesn’t miss that there’s still a sheen of sweat on Ushijima’s face as he opens the crockery cupboard above the stove, that the water bottle peeking out of his bag is empty, and he knows it was a good practice today, which means it was a hard practice too. As Ushijima passes him by on his way out of the kitchen, Shinsuke touches him on the arm. “Thank you,” he says. “You can take the bath first later. I’ll wash up.”

It is not in their habit to let touches linger. Only, sometimes, to be infinitely kind in the brevity of the contact, to be gentle when they look away.

Shinsuke sets down his ladle and picks up the pot of curry, listening to the clinking of cutlery from behind him. There is comfort in knowing exactly what he will see when he turns around. A vase of daffodils, two mugs, two forks and spoons with their shine worn in. Two plates, a pair in matching off-white that they bought from the little shop down the road, because the old lady who owned it had taken a liking to Shinsuke and insisted on giving them a discount. Shinsuke had paid full price anyway and bought teaspoons as well.

“I admire that about you,” Ushijima had told him, in his forthright way. “You are good with people. I feel I lack that capability.”

Shinsuke had never thought himself good with people. What he is good at is arranging teaspoons in a drawer so they are lined up impeccably. But he thinks Ushijima would not lie to him, would not say something he did not mean, and this, too, is a gift, one that Shinsuke treasures.

They sit down to dinner, clap their hands together and bow their heads at the same time with a murmured _itadakimasu_. Tonight, affection smells like warm curry and a fragrant bowl of rice. It is enough, thinks Shinsuke; it is bountiful.


End file.
